Waiting, Gone, Leaving
by sapphire-child
Summary: A short fanfiction trilogy. Sawyer is tired of waiting, Charlie returns to the real world but soon finds that the island took more from him than he realised and Charlotte is ready to leave the security of home behind.


Title: Waiting, Gone, Leaving  
Genre: future fic, angst  
Spoilers: season one  
Original post date: "Gone"; 28th September 2005, "Waiting, Gone, Leaving" as a trilogy; 5th January 2006  
Summary: A fanfiction trilogy. Sawyer's tired of waiting. Charlie returns to the real world but soon finds that the island took more from him than he realised. Charlotte is ready to leave the security of home behind – but the road hadn't always been so easy.  
**Authors Note:** I wrote this fic _ages_ ago now. I think it might have been one of my first Lost fics ever but I only ever posted "Gone" the middle portion, because I liked it the best – and everyone who commented on it seemed to like it too. A few days ago I was cleaning up my computer and I found "Waiting" and "Leaving", the prequel and sequel to "Gone" and went, "Hey, I should finish this properly and post the whole damn thing and see what everyone thinks!" so I have and I hope you enjoy.  
Disclaimer: Lost, the characters within it and the situations they are in don't belong to me. Bad Robot, ABC, Disney, JJ Abrams and a bunch of other people own all the copyright to it. I promise I'm not writing this fanfiction to make any money and I don't mean to infringe on copyright – the plot bunnies simply attack and I relent.  
Dedication: This resurrection is dedicated to Joey because she's awesome.

* * *

**Waiting **

Bravest thing that boy ever did was pick up that gun and…

But we don't talk about that. Not anymore.

Can hardly believe it's been a whole year now. He looks after the two kids now. The little boy…well he's twelve now, not really little. That means his sister must be seven because it took them five years after we crashed…

Well anyhow, the boy, he's sitting there right now, whittling away at a bit of wood with a knife. He knows I'm watching him. He's got keen senses that one. He'd make a good hunter if he put his mind to it. He's more useful than his dad in most respects.

And the little girl playing in the sand, building tunnels and turrets. Lord she looks like her mother. Same hair, same smile. Got her dad's ears though. Shame. Could have been real pretty without them.

Her dad. Huh, that's a laugh. I wouldn't have thought him a good dad or even a good husband; he's always been like a kid himself. But he's faithful. He goes to see her every night. Sits there and talks to her as if she's still alive. I dunno why he does it, I guess its how he deals with it and as long as he doesn't go crazy I guess he's more than welcome to it.

Horizons empty today, just like every other stupid day I've had to sit out here and fry in the sun. You'd think after so long they'd have given up but no. We still all have a shift at watching for half a day and stocking the firewood. The beach is getting wider and wider as the sand takes over from the trees, we're slowly collapsing the edges of the island.

Their wedding was on the beach, just under the shade. It was stupid having a wedding here when we were getting picked off one by one but it's what they wanted. Trying to find a priest was the hardest part. He'd been a religious man but they ended up having to settle on Saint Jack to marry them. So he said a few words and then they gave each other a necklace.

She was buried in hers. He wears his all the time, never takes it off. I wondered once what he'd do to me if I stole it.

Yeah. He'd have killed me.

But it would have been fun nonetheless.

The other hard part was finding stuff for them to wear. Jack ended up lending him his suit, half shredded and too big for him, and everyone pitched in with their white clothes for the bride. A Kodak moment friends. Just nobody with a camera for miles.

They took over their own little corner in the caves. Built beds and a table and wove mats out of reeds and the like. Quite a cosy little niche if you've got the good fortune to be invited. I never let them invite me.

'Sawyer?'

Speak of the devil. And with arms full of reeds no less.

'Going to weave another mat little man?'

'Yeah,' he shuffles his feet in the sand. He's never liked me calling him that. 'Thanks for watching the kids for me.'

Just a nod. Don't need to go making conversation with him. Too much effort. And it's too damned hot here on the beach.

'Are you heading back to the caves now?'

'Nah. I've still got a while before I finish my shift. I mean, maybe there'll be a ship today and nobody will see it if I leave.'

He grins at this. 'We've got about as much chance of a ship coming to rescue us as you not being a git for a day.'

He let's me process the insult while he gathers the kids up. 'Come on kids. Say goodbye to Sawyer.'

'See you Sawyer,'

'Bye Saya,'

That little one never could get my name right.

'You want to come by for a drink later on?'

The question catches me off guard; I'm too busy in my own thoughts so of course I answer before I think about it properly.

'Yeah sure.'

Oh…wait…

'Okay, see you later then.'

Shit.

* * *

He hands me a mug of tea. All the liquors long since been gone.

It isn't even _real_ tea.

I'd prefer coffee anyway.

Tea is such a prissy British drink. Probably why he drinks it. Reminds him of home. Not that it's actual tea. I don't what it is exactly but Sun grows it and makes up little packets of it. She's got herself quite established now. Regular little nursery. Jin's gone now though. Yeah he got himself eaten by whatever that thing is out there. Only bit we found of him was his hand.

She identified it by the watch.

'Do you think we'll ever get off this bloody island Sawyer?'

My eyes flicker over to him. He's sitting at the opposite side of the table looking moodily into space over the rim of his mug.

'Well gee Charlie boy if we were gonna be rescued then I'm betting they woulda come by now.' Sarcasm is a _wonderful_ thing. 'How longs it been now? Lets see…twelve years?'

'I know,' he takes a sip, still staring at nothing. 'Four more years and we'll have been here as long as the crazy French lady was when Sayid found her.'

'Except we're not crazy.' _On second thoughts…_'Most of us anyways.'

He sighs long and hard.

'I dunno Sawyer it seems like the years are beginning to roll into each other, you know? I think…' he finally looks up, his eyes dark. 'I think I'm starting to forget.'

'Forget what?' might as well humour him.

He puts a hand to his necklace.

'Oh.'

Oh. _That._

He nods and worries the necklace. It's broken before, couple of times now it must be and every time he's somehow fixed it. He's always been good with fixing things like that though. Little fiddly things.

Hell what am I supposed to say now? If you ever want to kill a conversation just talk about someone who's dead.

Oh wait…someone has just come belting into the caves. Sounds like Walt. He was on lookout after me. Keeping the signal fire burning, watching the horizon. Wonder what's going on?

After a moment or two Sun comes racing down the cave towards us.

'Sawyer! Charlie!'

Charlie snaps out of it at once.

'What is it Sun?'

'Kate just saw…there is a boat.'

'_What?'_

'There is a boat,' Sun repeats breathlessly.

'Probably a false alarm,' I wave my hand dubiously. 'Lookouts have seen boats before that weren't there.'

'It is not a false alarm,' she insists. 'Come see. They have come ashore.'

Little Brit and I leave our tea where it is. Saved by the bell. It was a damned awkward conversation anyway and I shouldn't have even been a part of in the first place.

There's a crowd near the entrance to the caves. I keep trying to stay away but Charlie pulls me closer to see.

'Is this where you all live?'

Well, well. It's a lady expedition leader. She'd be fine too if she didn't have a mask over her nose and mouth. Probably thinks we're catching. Her crew all have little masks on. At least nine of them.

'Yes, all of us that are left.' Oh would you look at that. Jacko's leading the troops again.

'How many of you are there?'

'Originally 48 of us survived, at last count however I think we were down to twenty.' Jack looks around at Lenora for confirmation of this number.

'Twenty-two,' she corrects him.

Lenora was the last one to see Doughboy…I mean Hurley alive. She took up his job of census taker after he died. Sort of a deathbed obligation.

'Thanks Lenora.' Jack sighs.

'A good number,' the woman says. 'We'll be able to get you off no problem.'

'What about the dead?' Charlie speaks up suddenly and all eyes turn to him. 'Do we have to leave them here?'

'Regrettably so. Quarantine you see. It's quite bad enough with you lot, you'll have to be in quarantine until we're sure you're not going to introduce any unknown diseases to the world.'

Charlie nods. He had been expecting it but still I know he's thinking it's going to be hard. It's hard to break a habit you've been following for such a long time.

'Daddy what's going on?'

'Charlotte, sweetheart just be quiet for a while. Daddy's trying to hear what's going on.'

'They've come to take us away,' the boy says quietly. 'Haven't they?'

That boys too smart for his own good sometimes.

'Yeah mate, they've come to take us away,'

The little one starts crying and I turn away. Nothing to eavesdrop on anyways. Lord I'm tired of this place, I'm tired of these people and I'm tired of their petty problems and I'm tired of eating rodent with banana relish all the time.

But most of all I'm tired of waiting.

No more waiting.

**

* * *

**

Gone

Liam stands tensely, waiting. It had been over twelve years, how could this be? But he had gotten the letter and he had come, disbelieving. And now he was waiting.

People are coming out in small groups of two or three, relatives or friends tearfully greeting them. But Liam had to wait it seemed. While others dispersed more came out, a slow trickle of shattered lives.

Liam barely recognises him when he comes out. His jeans are patched and frayed, worn to hell, and his eyes are much older than they used to be.

He opens his mouth to call out but then stops. He has two children with him, a young boy and an even younger girl, both looking frightened and holding onto his hands tightly.

He has _children?_

He tries to speak again

'Charlie?'

Charlie turns slowly to the source of the voice and then slowly begins to walk towards his brother. The two children follow closely.

'Liam,' he doesn't fall sobbing onto him as he once might have. It is Liam who begins to cry, pulling Charlie to him in a tight embrace. Charlie stands there, eyes shut. He would cry but for the hardness of heart he has learnt after twelve years of death. 'I'm okay Liam.'

'I thought you were dead. For such a long time. God Charlie it's like you're back from the dead.'

'I nearly was dead. More times than I can count but I'm here now.'

The children stare at Liam curiously. Who is this man?

Charlie remembers his manners then. Introductions need to be made. 'Liam, this is Aaron and Charlotte,'

They greet him amiably enough but then Aaron turns to his father. The question doesn't need to be asked, Charlie knows what he wants to know.

'This is your Uncle Liam,' he explains. 'Say hello.'

'Hello Uncle Liam,' Aaron says quietly.

Charlotte echoes him. 'Hello Uncle Liam.'

'You're a father?'

'Only once,' Charlie ruffles Charlotte's hair affectionately. 'Claire was already pregnant with Aaron when we came to the island. But I'm the closest thing to a dad he's ever had.'

'You _are_ the only dad I've ever had,' Aaron mutters.

'Where is she then?' Liam asks. 'Claire did you say her name was?'

He knows he shouldn't have said it the moment the words leave his lips. Charlotte and Aaron look down and Charlie's eyes darken.

'She's dead,' he says bluntly.

Liam pauses to digest this before answering. 'I'm sorry Charlie,'

'So am I.' He manages a smile but it doesn't quite reach his eyes. 'Have you come to adopt us then?'

'Have you got anywhere else you can go?'

Charlie shakes his head no. 'I wouldn't know where to begin looking for Claire's family. I was hoping you would come and if you hadn't I would have found a motel or something. Oceanic have been forced to give us quite a bit of money in compensation.'

'You can stay as long as you like Charlie,' Liam pushes a final tear off his face with the heel of his palm. 'As long as you like.'

* * *

'Proper tea!' Charlie moans enviously picking up a tea bag and pressing it to his nose, inhaling deeply. 'Oh I could have murdered for proper tea…' 

'You can have as much as you like Charlie,' Karen says, looking amused. 'We've got an endless supply.'

Meghan is next to her making a glass of Milo for herself, unsure of how to react to her newfound uncle and cousins. She turns and leaves without saying a word.

'Do you kids want anything?' Liam asks Aaron and Charlotte.

Aaron shakes his head no but Charlotte is hungry.

'How about a sandwich?' Karen asks as she fossicks in the pantry. She glances at Charlie. 'Peanut butter okay?'

Charlie goes very still.

'Peanut butter?' Charlotte echoes and looks uncertainly at her father.

'Oh you wouldn't have had peanut butter before would you?' Karen exclaims and holds out the jar. 'Would you like to try some sweetie?'

Charlotte goes over to look into the jar and frowns.

'That's not peanut butter,' she says.

Karen pauses and glances over at Charlie who reaches into his bag, rummaging for something.

'Charlie?' Liam peers at him curiously when he pulls out an empty glass jar and offers it to Charlotte.

'_That's_ peanut butter,' Charlotte announces and runs across the room to take the lid off. 'Only a little at a time though…' she dips a finger in and licks it with great relish. '…Or we'll run out.' She screws the lid shut again and sits licking her finger.

Aaron leans across to whisper in Liam's ear. 'The jar is full of imaginary peanut butter.'

Charlie looks up and smiles weakly. 'Sorry,' he apologises. 'I'm afraid I've gone a bit odd.' He laughs a little.

'You've always been odd daddy,' Charlotte chortles through a finger of peanut butter and even Aaron has to smile.

'Would you like to try some different peanut butter doll?' Karen, instead of making a sandwich reaches across with the jar. Charlotte reaches out a finger and gingerly scoops some out, sucking her finger.

After a moment she frowns.

'Don't you like it?' Charlie asks mildly.

'I do like it,' she admits. 'But it's not as good as yours daddy.'

* * *

'Her name was Claire Littleton. She was pregnant to her ex boyfriend. Thomas. They thought they could work it but after a while I guess he got scared so he left her. He couldn't make it work. She was going to put the baby up for adoption but then she went and saw a psychic and he told her she couldn't have the baby adopted, she had to raise him. From what I gather, he was really insistent, but then he changed his tack and said he'd organised foster parents in LA and the plane ticket and everything. And of course, we crashed so that was the end of that. She had to raise the baby then. I first met her when I was helping her move her bags away from the wreckage. And I don't know what it was but something about her... There were complications of course. She lost her memory at one point, couldn't remember anything. Still didn't remember everything, even right before she died. After eleven years she still didn't remember everything.' 

'How did she die?' Liam asks quietly. Charlotte and Aaron are asleep on the couch, snuggled up like a pair of hibernating bears.

Charlie continues to stare at the dregs of his tea for a moment before sighing.

'After about nine years it must have been, she got sick. Really sick. Others had gotten sick and died; some had gotten sick and lived. She was okay for a while; we thought she'd beat it. Then she got worse and worse. She was in pain for a long time. When it got too much she asked me to end it, end the pain.'

There is a long, tense silence between the two brothers.

'When the plane crashed, there was a US Marshal on board escorting a prisoner to the states. He had a case with four guns in it. We'd rationed the bullets as best we could. There were only three left. So I took Aaron and Charlotte to say goodbye. Kate took them away. I picked up the gun. Jack was there, outside the tent in case I couldn't do it. I said goodbye. I kissed her. I told her that…' his voice gives a slight hitch, the only variation in his voice since he has begun. 'I told her that I loved her. And then I put the gun to her temple and I pulled the trigger.'

Silence.

What do you say to something like that?

'I'm sorry Charlie.'

'I killed three people on the island.' Charlie says woodenly. 'Ethan, Claire and myself.'

'No Charlie,' Liam reaches across the table to place a warm hand over Charlie's cold trembling fingers. 'You just grew up too fast. That's all.'

Charlie grips Liam's fingers tightly, staring at them. 'I feel so old.' He ventures after a moment. 'An old person in a young body.'

'Aren't you?'

Charlie looks up. His eyes are brimming over with memories.

'You had to kill the woman you loved Charlie.'

Charlie closes his eyes and his memories spill over his cheeks and onto his cold fingers. He's nearly forty. He will never be young again.

'I lost myself there,' he chokes. 'On the island…everything I was, everything that I had…gone! Just gone!'

Liam doesn't say anything. There isn't anything to say.

And Charlie puts his face into his hands and cries.

* * *

**Leaving**

Is that the last of your stuff then?'

Charlotte pushed her hair out of her eyes and nodded as she finished taping up the last box.

'Yep. That's all of it.'

Charlie looked around the room.

'You've only got, what, ten boxes of stuff?'

'They're not exactly small daddy,' Charlotte protested.

'Well you've not exactly had a long time to collect stuff I guess.' Charlie smiled ruefully at her.

'Oh daddy,' Charlotte leant across a box and put her arms around his neck. 'I've got the rest of my life to collect useless crap if that's what you'd like.'

'That's my girl,' he touched the end of her nose fondly, the way he used to when she was little. His gaze softened as he took in her features. _God_ _she looked so much like Claire…_

'Are you sad?' Charlotte asked suddenly, anxiously searching her father's eyes for some sign of regret. 'Will you be okay here by yourself?'

'I'll be okay,' Charlie reassured her. _God she looked like Claire…_ 'And I'll see you just about every day at work anyway.'

'_Work?'_ Charlotte said distastefully. 'Oh don't call it work daddy. Being a musician isn't about work, it's about music.'

'Just what I always said.' Charlie chuckled and kissed her swiftly before tousling her eternally dishevelled mop of curls. 'Come on love, it's past midnight. You'd best be going to bed if you have to get up at the crack of dawn tomorrow.'

'Okay, okay,' Charlotte grinned at him as her father left the room. Her bed was as it had always been, inviting and soft but she could still remember her bed on the island, how she had snuggled in with Aaron when it got too cold and the both of them in with Claire and Charlie when it got really cold.

It seemed like an age ago that they had been on the island. It had been the hardest thing in her life to live in the civilised world. Her first experience after the boat that had rescued them was of a hospital, a quarantine ward where everything was white. After the freedom and openness of the island, Charlotte was afraid of the hospital. She hated it and didn't respond well to anybody for a while, not even her father.

Aaron was more tolerant. He was old enough to not throw a tantrum and simply took everything with a grain of salt. By the time they had been shipped back to Sydney and Liam had picked them up, Charlotte was much quieter and Aaron quieter than before.

They had been broken in to society so to speak.

School had been one big disaster. The other children thought them odd and stupid – and this feeling intensified when they finally moved on to high school. On one memorable occasion, a girl was teasing Charlotte quite ruthlessly, using any methods she could to get a reaction out of this stony faced girl.

'Don't even have a proper family!' she had crowed. 'Where's your mummy eh _Charlie?'_ Charlotte had flinched as the girl got right up in her face. 'Did you leave her in Bali on the way over or something? Or did she find someone better looking than your dad to fuck?' the girl was soon joined by other's in her derisive laughter whilst Charlotte glanced around desperately, hoping to see Aaron but the girl got in her way again, leaning in close, invading her space, her _personal_ space that she valued so much, especially now that she was in this horrible, horrible claustrophobic world. The girl looked gleeful at the realisation that Charlotte was trapped and used this to her advantage, delivering the final humiliating blow. 'She's probably off fucking a gorilla right now!'

Charlotte burst into angry tears and as if summoned to her by some magic, Aaron appeared out of nowhere, walked up quite calmly and twisted the girl's arm behind her back until it broke.

'Nobody makes my sister cry.' he had said in a hollow voice that had scared everyone far more than him breaking the girls arm. 'And nobody says anything like that about my mum.' He had been suspended for it, almost expelled but he had gotten the message across. Nobody said anything against their family again.

Charlie had been utterly shocked and sat Aaron down for the longest lecture he ever delivered.

'This isn't the island Aaron!' he told him over and over. 'This is the _real world!_ You can't just go around _breaking people's arms!'_

'The island is real.' Aaron had said stubbornly and Charlie had slammed his fist down on the table.

'Dammit Aaron you think I don't know the bloody island is real?' he roared. 'I've been trying to forget how real that place was! I had to kill my own sodding _wife_ because she was in so much _fucking_ pain she couldn't stand living any more! So don't you bloody talk to me about whether or not the bloody island is real!'

Aaron waited a beat before speaking again.

'You want to forget everything about the island?'

'Yes,' Charlie said with finality. 'Everything.'

'Even mum?' Aaron said coldly.

Charlotte was watching from the gaps in the staircase.

Charlie took a deep breath and braced himself against the kitchen table.

'Your mother has nothing to do with you breaking a girls arm Aaron,'

'I was raised on the island,' Aaron said coldly. 'It was my home. It was real. This place? This whole place is so fake. It makes me want to vomit. At least on the island people said what they meant.'

His door had slammed shut and with that sound Charlie had collapsed into a chair and sobbed, his head on his arms. Charlotte tiptoed over to him, she was barely twelve, and was surprised to hear him speak.

'Claire…oh God Claire…if you could see us, you'd kill me. I've screwed everything up…Claire…Claire…I'm sorry Claire…so sorry…Claire…'

And without knowing why, Charlotte picked up his hand and held it.

'Poor Charlie,' she whispered into the silent room. 'Poor Charlie. Raising Aaron and Charlotte all alone. Poor Charlie. Poor Charlie.'

After a long time, Charlie looked up. 'Charlotte. I'm so sorry love…come here, give me a cuddle…'

'I won't leave you daddy,' she had vowed that night as she hugged him, stroking his hair and feeling so brave on both of their behalves that she thought she might burst. 'I promise.'

'Is that everything?'

'Yep, that was the last box,' Charlotte wiped the dust from her hands onto her jeans and turned to smile at her father. 'Thanks for helping me move everything in daddy.'

Charlie smiled a little. 'No problems love. Don't forget, if you need me I'm just a phone call away.'

'I know daddy!' Charlotte said chidingly and kissed him again, laughing. 'Now sod off please! I want to unpack the rest of my stuff and I don't need you breathing down my bloody neck the whole time – and don't say you won't because I _know_ you will.'

Charlie grinned at her. 'You know me too well. I guess I'll see you tomorrow bright and early then love.'

'Mmmn hmmn. Bye daddy.'

The door clicked shut behind him.

The cardboard felt warm and slightly dusty as Charlotte pulled back the flaps and rummaged amongst her possessions, her hand finally making contact with glass and plastic. She drew forth a plain photo frame, a freestanding affair with a single picture in it. A woman, young and smiling – even younger than she herself was – her hair curling prettily across her pale brow.

Charlotte placed the photograph quite tenderly on her TV cabinet then just as suddenly changed her mind and trotted into her room, giving it pride of place on her bedside table.

Gazing at the picture, she smiled very slightly and then glanced up at herself in the mirror for a long moment.

She _did_ look like her mother.


End file.
